


The Tale of Zolf Smith

by ineffablenerd



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Tattoos, i don't even know what this is, tattoo worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablenerd/pseuds/ineffablenerd
Summary: The Tale of Zolf Smith's Tattoos as told by Oscar Wilde.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	The Tale of Zolf Smith

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks When In Rome for all the tattoo ideas!

A Tale of Zolf Smith's tattoos as told by Oscar Wilde.

The first one you see will probably be the anchor on the back of his right hand. It is the hand he heals you with. The hand he steadies you with and the hand he reaches out to you to agree to help you save the world.

The rope connected to that anchor winds up his forearm ripped apart by a metal port. It ends in a frayed knot next to the crook of his elbow. You can see it when he shoves up the sleeves of his shirt for cooking.

The other arm is decorated by lots of small trinkets, starting at a 7 pointed star on his wrist, it is covered in memories. A dagger, for Sasha, A percularily shaped rock with a date on it. He would deflect if you asked but you know it is the date his brother died. There's a folded up hankerchief near the dagger, the monogram is shakey, like the canvas shook while it was being lined. He didn't get it fixed, even after Hamid came back. The two rings with dwarven runes on it are his parents', joined forever on his skin.

He adds a set of Lockpicks for Carter, and a rapier cutting through red tape for Barnes. You notice but you don't tell them. You wonder why you are not on there.

A dragon tooth joins them much later. A pink heart in a clam, a multipurpose screwdriver, a small flamingo is hidden in the crook of his elbow.

Between the memories little stars form the familiar patterns of constellations.

It will take you a long time to see his shoulders. You get to inspect them for blue veins, but you can't linger long enough to make out the geometric pattern on his one bicep, or the family crest on the other. When you finally get to, you trace each line over and over.

Each piece tells a story and you ask for them all. In the quiet of the night in hushed voices, after you blow out the lights and kiss out the enchanted candle of Hope on his neck.

The fire up his thigh, a story of loss and guilt. The lighthouse on his side, reaching out of a sea of fog. A story of loneliness and belonging.

It takes a long time for the stories to leave his lips. They feel like confessions. And you burn them into your heart like he etched them into his skin. They are your stories now too.

The compass on his shoulder is fixed forward on true north. The pair of dice, in the pit of his arm, half covered by a cup always show snake eyes.

Poseidon blows a Ship across his back. It is not a navy ship and the black flag on its highest mast confirms another story you need to coax out of him over the years.

You almost forget what the designs on his chest and stomach are, but you know how the lines taste in the morning. You know how they feel and how they move. How the Raven moves its wings like it's trying to take flight right there. How when his heart beats faster, so does the tattoo of one, held in a skeletal hand right above where the real one is. How the rose that grows out of it drapes over his collarbone and how it blooms with the bruises you suck into it.

You trace the tale of Zolf Smith with your hands and your lips whenever he lets you. Up his arms and down his chest and you linger on his hip.

There it is curled over bone and muscle and fat. A peacock feather on a piece of parchment. You trace your own signature with your tongue an revel in the taste of your mark on someone else's skin.

He is yours, but you signed your heart away for it.

It was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so incredibly self indulgent I just want to talk about tattoos my lads and blokes.


End file.
